


Roxy: Disappear.

by sleepyempress



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyempress/pseuds/sleepyempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you would do unspeakable things for a drink right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roxy: Disappear.

**Author's Note:**

> This thing is almost a year old, uploading it here now because reasons.

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you would do unspeakable things for a drink right now.

You never had a lot of time to think about what you would be when you grew up, what grand plans you had for your life— it’s hard to with most of humanity dead—but you never imagined your future this way. When you were younger, you’d pour over the copies of your mother’s books and feel convinced that you too were destined for some magical adventure. There are times you’d like to smack the broad across the face for giving you the ridiculous expectations.

There is nothing magical about your life. There is nothing exciting about the fact that the cupboards are full of liquor bottles but you sometimes go days without eating anything else than raw pumpkin. Jumping through the fenestrated walls isn’t an adventure. It’s a calculated risk every time. The moment one of the things breaks, you’re permanently out of luck. Interdimensional travel is exhausting.

But there are reasons to keep doing the things you are doing. The faces of the carapacians who receive your ill-gotten gains. You’re together, all of this, this colony, even if you’ve never felt particularly connected to them.

No, you’re not lonely. You’ve got your piles of plush toys, your cat clones, your video games, even if you’ve played each one so much that it’s ridiculous. It gets fun again if you can get yourself drunk just enough to feel buzzed and happy but still coordinated enough to mash the buttons.

And then to swear really loudly at the pixels.

How could you be lonely? You’ve got Janey and that alien and that auto-responder and all the rows of rainbow text that appear on your computer screen. That’s when being drunk is the best, so you can really enjoy these friends of yours, who are extra funny on the days you decide to drink out of your martini glass. The letters on the keyboard all start looking the same, and eventually you have to use just your index fingers to pick out what you want to say, laughing the whole time over the hilarity of it all until you get too tired to piece all the letters together. 

By that time you’re smashed enough to not care about anything, and you can lie on the floor for hours and think about nothing. You can be nothing. You can disappear, invisible, far, far away from this bizarre chessboard in the middle of the ocean. Like you were never there at all.

The hangovers aren’t even that bad. Usually you can sleep them off, that nice, black sleep that ends with you waking up the carpet with a pounding head and dry eyes. Sometimes, when it’s not that bad —or really, really, really bad— you like staggering all the way to the edge of the colony so you can bend over the edge and retch directly into the sea, a nice present for the alien overlord sea queen. 

You’re welcome, your Majesty. 

Within a few hours you feel normal enough to begin the whole cycle over again, the stealing, the interdimensional physics, the familiar feeling of hunger as you wonder it you’ll be lucky enough to snag three meals today. And when the loneliness or boredom finally gets to you, like now, the bottles are in the cupboards. Like now.

You twist the cap off a fresh bottle of vodka. Your friends can argue with you or go offline, but the liquor hasn’t taken to disappearing yet. Normally you’d pour a little into your martini glass, start of slowly, but forget decorum. Decorum is for people who aren’t on a wrecked planet trying to piece together their daily existence. Decorum is for people who have time to do silly things like hope that they’ll accomplish something big and magical with their lives.

You take the first swig and disappear.


End file.
